


I Was His and He Was Mine

by DarkPhoenix1578



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Blood and Gore, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:38:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkPhoenix1578/pseuds/DarkPhoenix1578
Summary: A companion piece to "You Are No Brother of Mine"Brienne finds out about Jaime's fate in King's Landing.Takes place about two months after the events of "You Are No Brother Of Mine."





	I Was His and He Was Mine

At first, she didn't believe the rumors. 

They had wormed their way up north, despite the fact that winter was now truly upon them all and roads were made almost impassable. Large blankets and hills of snow now dotted most of Westeros, leaving no sign of the varied climates and diverse landscapes of the Seven Kingdoms. In its place was a white, sullen conformity and a sense of loneliness and foreboding that reached every corner of the country. North, south, east, west, it didn't matter. Winter was here for everyone.

The day had started out like any other. Brienne was sent out to train anyone who could wield a weapon and use it effectively. She trained young boys just over the age of eight and older men too, at least those who could still stand and had the strength to learn. She taught women and girls, as well; not of the trained assassin variety that Arya was, which was unheard of in the north, but those who had spent their entire lives in the fields and in their homes, doing what they were expected to do. 

Jon Snow, the King in the North, had demanded that as many people possible learn how to fight. "This is fight between the living and the dead." he had warned them all, that all too common brooding and serious stare and frown dominating his face. "We cannot spare anyone who is able to fight. We will need every man, woman, and child possible."

There had been many objections, of course. Lord Glover had been scandalized and held no desire to send his daughters out to fight. Lord Manderly and many others had been equally displeased. Of course, many had acquiesced to the King's demands once Lady Lyanna Mormont had stood up with a petrifying glare on her face. "I do not intend to sit by the fire knitting while good men go out and fight and die." Brienne had smiled, pleased and proud of the young lady. 

Not all objections had been put to rest, however. Along with their King in the North came Daenerys Targaryen herself. It had happened all too swiftly. First, the terrifying screech of dragons reached their ears. Lady Sansa had pleaded for calm, but most men stood frozen, looking up at the sky in dread, hands at the hilts of their swords. The giant one, the one named Drogon, had descended first, screaming with its mighty jaws wide open. It did not attack, and neither did the second smaller one, Rhaegal. "Named after my brother, Rhaegar." the Dragon Queen had told them upon entering Winterfell with Jon. 

They had sailed together on a ship, in hopes of making their alliance look like one between equals. Yet, striding in on a horse, with white hair fastened and braided behind her, purple eyes glinting in the frosty sunlight, it was hard not to be intimidated. Indeed, she looked every part a Targaryen. People kneeled and cowered in terror, afraid of her dragons and afraid of  _her,_ of what she might become. Many looked at her and saw her  _father,_ the Mad King Aerys. 

The Dragon Queen had dismounted, with Ser Jorah Mormont helping her from her saddle. Lady Sansa had the pallor of ice, but walked forward with a calm expression. Jon had dismounted after Daenerys and enveloped his sister in a warm hug. Pulling away, he had given Sansa a serious stare, a plea almost. Brienne, keeping her hand protectively on the hilt of her sword, had stayed a few feet behind, not daring to tear her eyes away from the lady she was sworn to protect. After a brief moment, Sansa almost imperceptibly nodded her head at Jon and then faced Daenerys, kneeling in the snow. "My Queen." 

The people in the courtyard had looked outraged and betrayed, but Jon had stepped forward, fierce energy in his eyes as he spoke. "Daenerys Targaryen is not your enemy. She is our ally, and we should be hers. There is only one war that matters right now. The war against the dead." He had paused, looking around at everyone for dissenters. "I have bent the knee to her, because without her and her dragons we are all lost! We need her dragons as much as we need the dragonglass." 

Daenerys had stepped forward then. "I did not come here as your enemy. I swear it, upon whatever gods you may believe in and upon my honor, that I am not like my father. I know who he was and what he did." She had paused, the light in her eyes flickering. "I have seen the army of the dead, these White Walkers that your King speaks of. I lost one of my dragons to them. I swear to you all that we will defeat this army of the dead. I will help you fight and  _win_ this war."

She had glanced over at Jon and the look he gave her surprised Brienne. She had never been the most adept at recognizing these kinds of things, but the stare between them spoke of a strong and irreparable bond. For a moment, her insides had twisted uncomfortably and her grip had tightened on her sword. It was the way Jaime would look at her sometimes, when she something that struck a chord in him. He would gaze at her with half astonishment, half admiration, and perhaps some exasperation too. But it was powerful all the same. 

The men and women gathered in the courtyard still looked less than pleased, but accepted the turn of events as they had come to be. And life had continued, despite a few mocking glares and mutters regarding Jon and Sansa and their decision. A swift and fierce glare from Brienne had quickly ended those mutters. 

Now, several weeks since their arrival, Brienne was once again out in the freezing cold, her armor strapped and set in place and her practice sword at the ready as she once again trained with Pod. He swung at her, and she dodged easily, swinging her sword around to catch him on the side. He backpedaled and ended up flopping on his butt, with Brienne's sword aimed at his chest. "Don't give up your position unless you have to." she told him strictly. "Hold the advantage that you have. You could have parried my blow with the right angle. And try to stay on your feet." 

Pod nodded, face red from the cold. He let out a puff of breath, standing back up again. They positioned themselves again, ready for another round, but the front gates suddenly opened. They both paused, looking as a rider came galloping through the gates. Lannister red decorated horse and rider, and a saddlebag swung at the side with something heavy in it. The rider glanced around and spotted Brienne. He abruptly threw himself off his horse and marched towards Brienne. She instinctively turned towards him, keeping her sword at the ready. 

Two guards approached the rider before he could reach Brienne. "Who are you and what is your business?" one of them stated coldly. 

The rider, grimy faced and thin, sneered at the guards. "What's it to you northern scum? I got a message for a Brienne of Tarth. And she o'er there is the only woman ugly enough to be her." 

Brienne thinned her lips at the insult. "What is your message, ser?" she demanded, stepping towards him. Pod followed behind her nervously. 

"A gift, for you." The messenger spat on the ground. "And for the Imp." 

Brienne blinked in confusion. A gift? For her and Lord Tyrion? 

The messenger stalked over to the saddlebag and loosened it from his horse. He threw it upon the ground at her feet. The stench of rotting meat surged through the cold air and Brienne fought to place a gloved hand to her face. "What  _is_ that?" 

The messenger grinned, revealing broken and rotting teeth. "I'd take it to whoever it matters to and find out." 

 

*****

 

The package and the letter delivered along with it were sent directly to Jon and Daenerys. Brienne followed the two guards, one presently holding the contents of the saddlebag and the letter. Both of them had their noses scrunched up. "Whatever's in that bag can't be anything good." one commented. 

The halls of Winterfell were cold, dark, and silent as they approached the mess hall where business was currently being conducted while parts of Winterfell continued to be rebuilt. The two big wooden doors were opened. The Dragon Queen and Jon sat at the table facing the entire hall. Lady Sansa sat at Jon's right, Daenerys at his left. Lord Tyrion stood off in the left corner, his face troubled as the guards approached with the bag and letter. Brienne paused before the table, and they all looked at her, confusion and worry on their faces. 

Lady Sansa stood. "Lady Brienne, do you have business with us?" she asked gently. 

Brienne nodded. "Indeed, I do, my Lady. A rider rode into Winterfell just now and presented this bag and a letter. He stated that it was intended for myself and Lord Tyrion." 

"I don't think I am a lord of anything anymore." Tyrion quipped, but it was quiet and solemn. He looked disturbed at what Brienne had stated and walked cautiously towards Brienne. One of the guards looked inquiringly between the leaders seated at the table, unsure of whom to give the letter to. 

Jon cleared his throat. "I'll read it." 

The guard hand the letter to Jon and he looked at it, stiffening. "This is from Cersei Lannister." He teared open the letter and began reading it aloud: 

_To the brother who murdered our father and the stupid whore from Tarth,_

_I am afraid you have been misled in thinking I would actually help your cause. You must have grown soft in the head, brother, to think I would concede my rightful reign to a whore from across the Narrow Seas-_

"It seems everyone she doesn't like is a whore now." Tyrion interrupted with a bored tone. There were a few uneasy smiles before Jon continued reading. 

_My children were taken from me. My father and mother were taken from me. And somehow, our brother Jaime got it into his head that he could walk away from me. No one walks away from me. If I alone must rule the Seven Kingdoms, so be it. I will not be alone for very long._

_Please accept this gift as a reminder of what happens to those who betray me. I would suggest you all run and hide wherever you can, for if the dead do not destroy you, I will certainly destroy you._

_Signed,_

_Cersei Lannister, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, and Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms_

Silence enveloped the halls. No one spoke. Everyone looked at each other, uncertainty plaguing them all. 

"What is in the bag?" Tyrion said finally, a dreadful resignation hinging on the edge of his voice. The guard holding on to the bag untied it and dumped out the contents. A severed head fell onto the floor. 

The head had sunken in, the holes for the eyes hollow and stained red as if the eyes had been gouged out. The mouth was still twisted up in a half smile, as if the figure had expected death to come. The short, cropped hair was stained red, with a portion of the head smashed in as if a giant sword or axe had smashed through the skull. 

Brienne recognized the face. She recognized the smile, the hair, everything. She stared, blue eyes wide in horror and shock.  _Ser Jaime._

No one moved or spoke. The only sound was emanating from the flies buzzing around the head and the heavy breathing coming from Tyrion. His scar scrunched and bulged as his face contorted in fury and grief. "Farewell, brother." he choked out, tears glistening in his eyes. His small hands balled into fists. He turned to face Daenerys, who stared at him in worried compassion. 

"This was the Kingslayer?" she asked him, looking immediately contrite as Tyrion's face twitched violently at the word 'kingslayer'. 

"Yes, Your Grace." he bit out. "That was the  _Kingslayer._ My brother. The only-" His throat worked convulsively. "The only family I had who ever loved me." He glanced back at the severed head of Jaime Lannister.

"I will avenge him for this." he promised quietly. "If the dead do not reach her, if your dragons do not reach her, if all the Dothraki and Unsullied and soldiers in the world do not reach her, I will kill her myself. Nothing in this world can save her from me." Tyrion stormed off without another word, back stiff with rage. He shoved the great hall doors open and they slammed behind him. 

Brienne was still staring down at the head. The eyes had been completely torn out. The cheeks were sunken in, the smell of rotting flesh and maggots filling the air. 

"Take this out of my sight." the Dragon Queen finally demanded, unable to take the stench any longer. She rose, quickly followed by Jon, who hastily folded the letter and handed it to Lady Sansa. "I have been betrayed again." 

"It was  _Cersei Lannister,_ what else did you expect?" Jon retorted as the pair of them marched out of the hall. Their voices were soon lost as they swept out of the great hall, Daenerys in cold fury with Jon trailing after her. 

Lady Sansa and Brienne were left in the great hall. The guards quickly picked up the rotting head and stuffed it back into the saddlebag, departing with it. Brienne looked up at Sansa, unable to acknowledge what she had just seen. 

"Come here, Brienne." Sansa called to her, reopening the letter and reading its contents again. Brienne obeyed, walking over until she was standing in front of the table. "Why is this addressed to you?" she questioned, looking up at her with confused eyes. "It seems mostly directed at Tyrion." 

Brienne opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She tried again, but instead a raspy sob emanated from her mouth. She quickly covered it, flushing with shame, but the grief had already started and there was no holding it back. Brienne straightened, forcing herself to compose herself, even as tears gripped at her eyes. "Forgive me, Lady Sansa. I don't know what came over me." 

Sansa's expression changed from one of confusion to compassion. "Brienne-"

"My lady," Brienne began, struggling to keep her voice low and measured. "I knew Jaime. When I first met him, I found him crude, intolerable, and an uncontrollable liar. He was rude and brash and arrogant." She swallowed. "But he changed. He often said he was called a man without honor, but there was honor still in him. I know it." Her face twitched and she thinned her lips. "I think that is why he is dead. Cersei betrayed us. He knew that she was going to betray us. He tried to leave, maybe to tell us, maybe not. But she refused to accept that. And she killed him." Tears leaked out of her eyes and Brienne bowed her head in shame. "Forgive me, my lady, I-I am overcome-" 

Sansa leaned forward and took one of Brienne's hands into her own. "Brienne, I am so sorry." she said to her. "I will not lie, I never liked Jaime Lannister. The few times that I spoke with him, he seemed arrogant and ruthless." Sansa paused. "But I do not think you're lying. Perhaps he did change. Perhaps you changed him." 

"Then I killed him." Brienne said stonily, refusing to stare into Sansa's face. She couldn't. If she did, she'd-

"No, you didn't." Sansa replied firmly, gripping Brienne's hand tightly. Brienne looked at Sansa. "The only person who killed him is Cersei. She is to blame, not you. He changed because of you. He wanted to leave because of you. You didn't give the order to execute him." 

"The last thing I said to him was fuck loyalty." Brienne said to her softly. "I might as well have swung the sword myself." She pulled her hand away and stiffened her back, blinking the remaining tears in her eyes away. "Do you have further need of my services today, my lady?" 

Lady Sansa stared sadly up at Brienne. "No. You may leave, Brienne." she said gently. 

Brienne turned and walked out of the great hall, the sight of Jaime's severed, deformed head burned into her mind. 

 

*****

 

Brienne found Tyrion drinking outside near the stables later that evening. He stood with his back braced against the stable fence, chugging down a bottle of wine. She approached cautiously, wondering what in the seven hells she was doing. Tyrion looked up at her with drunk, sad eyes as she approached. She thinned her lips, holding her posture straight as she watched him take another swig of wine. 

"There's no need to be so uptight, my lady knight." he said sluggishly, placing the bottle of wine down next to him. He slumped the ground, resting his head against the fence as he stared up at Brienne. "You are grieving for him too. Don't lie, I know it. I can see it in your eyes." 

Brienne forced herself to relax. She could feel her composure wavering anyways; what was the point? She walked over to the fence and sat herself down next to him. The cold snow made her hiss as she sat upon the ground. Tyrion chuckled humorlessly next to her. "I no longer feel it. I don't feel anything in that sense. Only grief and hatred. Grief for my poor, dead brother and hatred for my horrid, evil sister." He picked up the bottle and chugged. He wiped his mouth with the back of his shirt sleeve and offered the bottle to Brienne. 

She smiled sadly. "No thank you, my lord. I don't drink." 

"I am no lord." Tyrion sighed. He glanced over at Brienne, staring up at her. "So here we are. The disgraced kinslaying brother of Ser Jaime Lannister and his lady knight lover." 

Brienne blushed, frowning. "We were not lovers." 

"You could have fooled me." Tyrion retorted. He took a drink. "The way he would look at you sometimes." He paused for a minute. Brienne closed her eyes, trying to ignore the searching gaze of the man next to her. "He l-"

"Don't say it." Brienne warned him, opening her eyes and fixing him with a piercing, blue gaze. 

Tyrion smiled briefly, before it disappeared. "You know he did. I know he did. You were both just too stupid to act on it." 

Brienne sighed in exapseration, looking up at the expanse of stars above them. "He was the commander of Cersei's armies. He loved his sister." 

"Until he didn't." Tyrion responded dryly. He took another drink. 

They did not speak for a few minutes. The pair of them just looked up into the sky, speckled with stars that glittered softly above them. "His head." Brienne finally said. "He was smiling. His head was carved and butchered like a pig but he kept smiling." 

"That seems like the Jaime I knew." Tyrion responded with a small smile. "Always making some joke or another about everything." 

He glanced back at Brienne, who met his gaze. "He did love you." 

Tears began to prick at her eyes again and she blinked furiously. "Is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

"No." he replied. "Nothing will. Not for a very long time, anyways. I can tell you loved him. You shared a bond with him, and that kind of bond doesn't go away very easily." He stared at Brienne, whose face was crinkling with grief and annoyance. "Sorry. I have been told many times before that I am terrible at consoling people."

"It doesn't matter now, anyways." Brienne replied for a minute, turning away from Tyrion. She sighed, and then stood up, brushing the snow off of her trousers. "I have a duty that I must uphold." She faced Tyrion once more, staring down at him with sad but stern eyes. "I promised Lady Catelyn that I would keep both of her daughters safe. I intend to keep that promise. And I won't let anything interfere with that promise." 

Tyrion squinted up at her peculiarly for a moment. Brienne forced herself to meet his penetrating gaze, feeling intensely uncomfortable with how thoroughly he seemed to scrutinize her. His face finally settled on a smile. "She would be proud of you. And her daughters. They have grown into fierce, powerful women." Tyrion grabbed the bottle of wine and swallowed the rest of it in a few long gulps. He threw the bottle on the ground and leaned back against the fence more. "Jaime would be proud of you too." 

Brienne stared deeply into Tyrion's eyes, settling for a sad smile as she listened to his words. "Good night, Lord Tyrion." 

He smiled mockingly back at her. "I am not a lord." 

"Jaime would disagree." Brienne told him, keeping his stare. His face softened somewhat. "He would say you are more a lord than all the men in Westeros combined."

"Speaking from experience, I probably am." They both laughed quietly. "Good night, Lady Brienne." 

Brienne nodded softly, before turning and walking away, her body soon disappearing and blending in with the darkness of the cold, winter night. 


End file.
